


Collect On Delivery

by abrandnewboom



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Choking, Daddy Kink, M/M, Rough Sex, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Seduction, Spies & Secret Agents, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandnewboom/pseuds/abrandnewboom
Summary: “Perhaps you are here to seduce me, and suffocate me as I sleep beside you?” Yassen suggested.He settled one hand heavy on one of Alex’s hip bones like a warning.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	Collect On Delivery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capeofstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeofstorm/gifts).



It wasn’t often that Alex saw more than a flicker of an expression pass over Yassen Gregorovich’s face. 

The barest eyebrow lift of surprise in the most extreme of circumstances. A lip quirk of amusement. A certain look he got in his eyes when Alex looked up at him from under his eyelashes. Keen interest. 

It had saved him more than once, Alex knew. He’d filed it away somewhere he hadn’t had to think about for a long time. That innate knowledge that he could make an assassin twice his age stay his hand with the right glance. With a bitten lip and a head tilt.

Fat lot of good that was while he was trudging through the sodden grey streets of Gelsenkirchen at 2am. Alex knew the canal was somewhere to his left - he’d crossed the long bridge over it on foot after disembarking from the train. 

The rain had really started to come down as Alex emerged from the wooded banks and turned onto the deserted service road that ran along the canal. There were no trees or buildings to offer shelter here.

The area was industrial, going by the automotive scrap metal scattered in the ditches and the vacant gravel-strewn lots that lined the road. 

There was an amusement park not far away - its slowly blinking Ferris Wheel was the tallest structure around. It looked to be closed for the night. Alex could see the empty carriages rocking to and fro in the wind, melancholy despite their bright colours. 

The only signs of life were the street lamps that scattered the road with yellow light every 200 metres and the pretty fairy lights strung along the Ferris Wheel, still glowing as a warning to low flying aircraft.

Alex has read in the file that Gelsenkirchen had once been a coal mining hub until it had closed its last colliery in 1999, plunging the city into a long running unemployment crisis. Since then the city had moved on to flourish in the industries of freight transportation and solar power.

Given that he was walking alone in the freezing rain down the centre of the road on what was allegedly a main shipping route, Alex wasn’t sure he’d call the place bustling.

He walked probably twenty minutes in abject misery, cursing Jones and Crawley and whichever MI6 office idiot had prepared his location intel this time. 

Disembark, cross the canal and walk until he found his next connection. The kind of idiotic cryptic instructions he’d come to expect from MI6.

What could there be to do in awful, freezing, industrial Gelsenkirchen? Let alone for an internationally wanted assassin with a waitlist of wealthy criminals champing at the bit to pay for his next bullet. 

Alex wiped his nose, pushed his hair out of his face and set his shoulders again as he trudged around the next turn. 

There was an old warehouse ahead, boasting dim flood lights as some semblance of security. There was a grey car parked alongside as well and - a man holding a small, equally grey umbrella. 

Alex approached cautiously. It was dark and the thick curtain of rain made it difficult to make out solid features.

As he drew closer though, there was no denying it. This wasn’t the agent he’d been told to greet to make his next connection. 

It was Yassen Gregorovich under a small travel size umbrella.

“Gregorovich?” Alex said, cautious.

“Котёнок,” Yassen acknowledged him, tone warm despite his impassive face. Alex couldn’t see his eyes in the dark.

“Котёнок?” Alex tried out the word. His Russian was still nowhere near as good as his German or French.

“You. A half drowned kitten I found in the rain.” 

Yassen opened the passenger door of the grey car. A light came on inside and Alex wanted more than anything to sit on the dry seat.

“Come, little cat,” Yassen said. “Before you’re washed into the canal.”

Alex nodded and clambered in, biting his lip as he watched Yassen come around the other side and slide into the driver’s door with a deft shake of the umbrella.

Yassen started the car and turned the car onto the road, heading back in the direction Alex had come, to his absolute irritation.

When they crossed the canal the rain stopped, as if someone above had turned off a faucet.

+++

They pulled up to a nondescript beige motel on the border of the industrial and residential areas.

The porter wasn’t at the reception window. Alex wondered, not for the first time since his arrival in the city, whether he’d died on the train or if perhaps Gelsenkirchen was simply a ghost town. 

They took the stairs without a word, Alex obediently climbing ahead until Yassen called for him to stop at the dingy fourth floor landing. A flickering hallway of silent beige doors awaited. Yassen indicated to the first door on the left.

“Well, then.” He said, locking the door to the room and pulling the latch and deadbolt into place. “Are you being punished? Why have they sent you to Gelsenkirchen?”

Alex would have smiled if he hadn’t been so cold. 

“I missed you,” Alex said, in better spirits now he was indoors. 

He pulled out the closest chair and sat down to free his soaked feet from his ruined New Balance trainers. Alex had only bought them two months ago, so he was a bit peeved about it. 

He tossed them towards the door with a frown, peeling off his cold socks and sending them in the same direction. 

“Missed me?” 

Alex glanced up to find Yassen leaning against the card table that matched the chair. It was one of about four pieces of matchstick furniture in the one-bedroom suite.

A couple of chairs, the table, a long bench with a television, telephone and a small black duffel bag taking up most of it, a bed made up with military precision and a door which likely led to a bathroom.

“Uh huh.” Alex said, snapping back to attention as he watched Yassen stoop to his level.

Yassen reached out and cupped his hands over the baby soft skin on the tops of Alex’s feet. His hands were so hot against his damp skin that it hurt. 

“You’re freezing.” Yassen said, tightening his grasp around his ankles. 

Alex nodded. He let the man rub the warmth back into his numb feet and ankles, eyes travelling over the assassin’s eternally neat hair, his long pale lashes, the light freckles that covered most of his skin despite his pallor. 

It was a test of trust, he knew that. Alex also knew he did trust Yassen Gregorovich a certain amount. Whether it was mutual...he wasn’t sure.

“I’ve been freezing for hours,” Alex admitted, letting his years-long underlying frustration with the utter _unfairness_ of his life colour his words. “It’s always - it’s always short notice. They dropped me in Düsseldorf. Had to wait there and jump a freight train at 1am. Then you found me walking the canal.”

“It drops to 3 degrees Celsius overnight.” Yassen said shortly, assessing Alex’s bare crossed arms. “This is all you have?” 

Alex nodded, just once and looked away, studying the ancient television in detail. “They don’t - they don’t trust me to carry anything now. Not since I came back from Venice.”

Silence. Alex glanced back to Yassen, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

“I see.” Yassen said, before pausing again. “I have dry clothes you can wear. Take these off.” 

Alex nodded jerkily and clambered to his feet. He started peeling off his sodden jeans. They felt especially disgusting against his damp skin, so full of water it wouldn’t have been difficult to claim he’d swum in them. 

Alex had to stand up to turn them inside out and drag them off one leg at a time. He was huffing with exertion by the time he hurled them onto his pile of wet items with a solid splat.

He looked up to check on Yassen to find him studiously organising his duffel bag, eyes politely averted from Alex’s struggles.

Alex took the opportunity to peel his boxer briefs down his thighs as well, nearly sighing with the relief of removing the damp fabric from his privates. 

His white t-shirt hardly left anything to the imagination, but it was all Alex had left, even if it was very nearly see-through, thanks to the rain. Conveniently, it was fashionably oversized, so it fell easily to his mid thigh and modestly covered most of his bum. 

Alex ruffled a hand through his hair to encourage it to air dry as best it could. 

Then he pushed in his chair and went to sit gingerly on the edge of Yassen’s bed. 

Yassen tracked his movements unobtrusively across the room. He placed a small heap of soft looking clothes on the surface beside his bag. 

Sleeping clothes, Alex guessed. He wondered if they’d ever been worn. It seemed more likely the assassin carried them as a prop to ensure his overnight bag was believable when he went through customs - or when it was inspected by nosy hotel staff. 

“They didn’t leave clean towels today,” Yassen said. “I’ll fetch some in a moment.” 

Alex pulled his knees up under his chin, exposing the backs of his long pale thighs. 

“Alright,” Alex said, wrapping his arms around his shins and hugging them closer for warmth. 

“Get under the blanket if you’re cold.” Yassen said, slowly. He came around the side of the bed and pulled the covers loose with a tug, folding them down as if he was about to tuck Alex into bed. 

Alex turned and crawled to the head of the bed, looking back to ensure that Yassen’s eyes followed him as he exposed flashes of bare flesh.

Yassen offered him the corner of the blanket, his gestures polite but his eyes dark.

Alex wrapped his fingers around Yassen’s wrist instead, pulling him onto the mattress in lieu of the blanket. 

Yassen went easily, sliding catlike into Alex’s space to crowd him against the headboard. 

Cornered, Alex pushed forward, climbing into Yassen’s lap without further discussion.

Yassen let it happen, spreading his legs to make room as he wrapped an arm around Alex’s damp waist securely and turned them around to press his own back against the headboard.

Alex shuddered, the heat wrapped around him a physical shock to the nervous system after the hours of icy rain and wind.

“Am _I_ your mission, Alex?” Yassen murmured, cupping the rounds of Alex’s buttocks in calloused hands. 

His skin’s surface was still chilled from the downpour, but Alex knew he’d heat up soon enough under the assassin’s body heat.

“No,” Alex lied, blinking down at Yassen, content to let his searing hands roam over his skin. 

“Perhaps you are here to seduce me, and suffocate me as I sleep beside you?” Yassen suggested. 

He settled one hand heavy on one of Alex’s hip bones like a warning. He slid the other up the back of Alex’s shirt, running his fingers up knobbly vertebrae, drumming his thumb over the hollow dips between his ribs.

“I’m not a murderer,” Alex said, under his breath. He peered through his eyelashes to see whether it had any affect on the man.

Yassen didn’t even blink at the slight. “Pampered little Котёнок. You scratch and you bite, but you do not like to kill, do you?”

Alex shivered as the damp shirt pulled away from his back with each stroke up his spine. He could barely suppress the instinctive urge to arch into the warm touch. 

“You would rather have another man kill for you, wouldn’t you?” 

Yassen waited for Alex to shoot him a poisonous look before Yassen gave him the barest twitch of a smile. 

“I think this little kitten might be bait for a big dog.” Yassen said thoughtfully as he extracted his hand from Alex’s shirt.

“I’ve been offered far less generous incentives to defect before.” Yassen mused, tracing his forefinger over Alex’s chapped lips now. He tapped his finger on Alex’s full lower lip. Alex parted his lips minutely, only to frown slightly when Yassen withdrew his hand entirely.

“But I must admit...such a silly plan sounds exactly like something an idealistic young person like yourself would agree to,” Yassen said, leaning back against the headboard to survey the boy in his lap.

MI6 intelligence was a bit of a leaky boat at times, but unless Gregorovich hinted that he knew the entirety of the mission objective, Alex had no excuse to abandon ship. He’d do what they’d ordered him to do. But he had no control over what Yassen Gregorovich would do in response.

“It’s nothing like that,” Alex muttered, face downturned, trying to emit all the shame and embarrassment he could muster. 

“Oh?” Yassen said, amused. “You’re not bait? You’re here because you like me. Is it like that?” 

He walked long fingers teasingly up the length of Alex’s thigh from kneecap to where the damp shirt clung modestly to the crease of his hips.

“Would you like me to take you away from all of this? Keep you by my side as I travel? Debase you in a hotel room on every continent?” Yassen pulled at the hem of Alex’s shirt teasingly. 

Alex wriggled in his lap, refusing to meet Yassen’s eyes again. “Sure,” he muttered, not entirely sure himself about the veracity of his answer.

Yassen smiled faintly. “You’re usually a better liar than this, Котёнок.”

Alex shrugged, willing to let the assassin think he was petulant at being questioned so closely. 

“You are very lucky that I _like you_ so much today, little Alex. I will pretend with you, whatever your truth might be.”

Alex let Yassen drag his damp shirt over his head, leaning intimately against Yassen’s crotch for a moment. The rough denim was unpleasant on Alex’s bare skin, especially when he was this sensitive. 

Far more distracting was how clearly he could feel Yassen’s cock. The firm length pressed his fly out and lifted the fabric down his pant leg prominently.

Having thrown Alex’s last piece of modestly to the other side of the room, Yassen caught Alex by the chin. “Would you like to see what I’m going to give you?”

Alex nodded wordlessly, eyes darting from Yassen’s intense gaze back down to where he had begun to unbuckle his belt with practiced ease.

His cock was predictably large, almost egregious on a lean muscled body like Yassen’s. The head was already wet with precome. He leaked more as he jerked Alex closer, smearing him with the warm fluid as he slapped his cock against the flat surface of his stomach. Alex gasped, instinctively aroused at the hot press of firm flesh. 

“Good?” Yassen murmured, hands tight around Alex’s hips, in complete control, grinding him back and forth. Alex’s very interested dick, sensitive balls, and all the soft skin between his thighs and glutes were dragged between the stiff denim and the slick iron rod that was Yassen’s cock. 

“I don’t - know,” Alex squirmed as he slid from rough fabric onto the heaven that was Yassen’s cockhead tracing the crease of his buttocks. 

“You like this,” Yassen told him, certain. 

He was right about that. Alex could go crazy if this went on much longer. He’d happily dig his claws into Yassen’s shoulders and ride his lap until he made a mess of it like the teenager he was supposed to be. 

”Yeah,” Alex said instead. “Please, I need more.” He fought against Yassen’s grip, trying to rut against his cock, desperately out of rhythm. 

Yassen’s lip quirked, a tinge of snugness in the twitch. “You only have to ask, Котёнок.”

He dragged Alex closer, pressing their cocks together between their stomachs. Alex shuddered at the sweat slicked heat, then yelped in surprise as he felt slicked calloused fingers rubbing over his sensitive hole. 

He pressed his forehead into Yassen’s shoulder, whining wordlessly as the man’s finger tips slipped in and out insistently. It was only to the first knuckle, but giving him two at once was unkind.

Gregorovich always pushed the envelope, always wanted to see his reaction. Alex recalled this all too well from their encounters in the field. He would be foolish to think Yassen wouldn’t try to push the same buttons in bed.

His fingers twisted deeper and Alex buried his face in the black cotton at the junction of Yassen’s neck and shoulder.

“Am I your first?” Yassen asked him brusquely.

“Yes,” Alex sobbed, lying even as he pressed back against Yassen’s intrusion.

Yassen actually laughed at this lie. He squeezed Alex’s waist with the hand still keeping him in place. “Is that so?” 

Yassen slipped free for less than a moment, rolling his wrist to change his angle. Then Yassen invaded him again, stretching Alex far further than he was ready for with three rigid digits. Alex wailed and clung to his shirt, thighs shaking as he tried to reflexively close them. 

The fingerfucking was so brutally administered that Alex was truly concerned that any second now he would come so hard he might pass out and be rendered incapacitated.

Thankfully, Yassen seemed to have the same thought. He slowed his movements. Then he extracted his fingers from Alex’s fluttering hole, slapped his bare bottom with a stinging palm, and tipped him unceremoniously onto the mattress. 

Alex went onto his back easily, legs splayed open and vulnerable. The chill in the air licked over him in the absence of Yassen’s body. 

For a moment he felt exposed in a way he hadn’t in years. Perhaps since he’d given up on asking MI6 for a weapon. There had come a day when he’d stopped caring about that. Weapons tended to come to him soon enough. 

Alex seized the opportunity to suck in a lungful of cold air. He tried to center himself so he wouldn’t come in about two seconds flat the next moment that anything so much as brushed him between his knees and his collarbones.

Yassen kneeled up over him, perhaps having now decided exactly how he wanted to take Alex apart.

Yassen still hadn’t done away with his open jeans or removed his turtleneck and it seemed that he didn’t intend to. 

“I’ll try not to hurt you your first time, little one.” Yassen stroked his face mockingly. 

Alex fought to keep a straight face at this continuation of the game. 

From what he’d seen Gregorovich didn’t know the first thing about gentle treatment. If Alex could walk straight after this encounter, he’d be suspicious.

Yassen dragged him closer, giving Alex’s legs nowhere to go but up and open. He fit himself against Alex’s tender hole, fat head rubbing insistently until he was breached. 

Yassen didn’t stop at just getting the tip in. Alex left out a soft cry as the shaft stretched him out. It was more than he’d taken in a long time. 

James Bond films were shockingly deceptive when it came to that aspect of spycraft. Even when a likely target wanted to take Alex to bed there was rarely time, let alone the inclination to add a tête-à-tête onto the existing stress of a mission.

Yassen took hold of the back of Alex’s knees and pressed them firmly against his heaving chest. 

Alex hissed at the stretch the position created in his thighs and lower back. Yassen was spreading him wider, guiding him into a better position to take the man’s cock deeper.

“You’re doing so well, Котёнок,” Yassen praised him. 

“Thank you, sir,” Alex said, blinking coquettishly up at the assassin above him. 

“Alex,” Yassen said, in warning. His hips hitched slightly but he managed to stay steady, filling the boy methodically. 

He ground into Alex a little harder every time he got root-deep. It pushed a soft little gasp out of him every time Yassen’s cock pressed in just a little too far. An automatic and uncontrollable reaction, like treading on a squeaky toy. 

Yassen abused the privilege for long seconds, stretching Alex out in ways that Alex had only ever wondered he might be able to withstand.

Alex whimpered, barely loud enough that Yassen would pick it up in between his whines. “ _Daddy_.” 

Alex felt Gregorovich’s thick cock twitch inside him before the man could even process the word intellectually.

“Ah,” Yassen said after a beat, pausing his thrusts as one hand slid up to capture both of Alex’s wrists in a tight grip. “Yes, I can do that.” 

Alex writhed in his hold, unable to resist the urge to goad the man into fucking him properly again.

Yassen kept him in his place easily, pinioned by the two searing anchor points of his deeply lodged cock and the bone crushing one handed grasp he maintained on Alex’s wrists. Alex fell back into the sheets with a huff, unsuccessful in pursuing a return to Yassen’s previous rhythm.

“I’m happy to see you’re finally open to being disciplined, Alex,” Yassen said. He abandoned Alex’s bruised wrists, clasping his long slender throat instead. 

“Wait-” Alex gasped out, regretting following his instincts, unfortunately not for the first time.

There were no second chances with Gregorovich. There was only what he wanted, how he wanted it.

Yassen slid in and out shockingly easily, hand tight on Alex’s windpipe, even as he gasped and twitched until Yassen’s weight.

His cock had hollowed Alex out, ruined him utterly. He went slack in Yassen’s hold: giving him everything; allowing anything. 

Even as he choked Alex with his left hand, Yassen used his right to push Alex’s left leg wide and high, the stretch exposing every part of him to the assassin’s eyes.

“ёбаная блядь,” Yassen muttered hungrily. “You take it like a whore.”

Dazed, Alex clenched hard around Yassen’s deeply planted cock, helpless as he came uncontrollably. His stomach was filthy with his own come. He’d probably ruined Yassen’s shirt and stained his jeans as well. 

It served him right for the merciless way he was still using Alex’s body. 

Alex was still shuddering as Yassen released his throat, hardly able to register the force Yassen expended on fucking him through the climax. 

Alex’s softened cock jostled on his come smeared stomach, pink and sore from chafing against denim and then the front of Yassen’s dark turtleneck. It was nearly useless now. He’d come everything he had when the assassin had choked him out.

Gregorovich loved it. Alex had known he would. 

“Open your mouth,” Yassen told him. “I want to come down your throat.” 

He leaned hard into his next thrusts even as Alex hissed at the stretch it put on his overclocked hip flexors.

“Please, don’t- Daddy” Alex begged him, needing to gasp for enough breath to get even half of his sentence out. 

Yassen’s cock swelled a little more inside him, obviously aroused at the implication that he could force Alex to take a face full of come.

If Alex could have rolled his eyes at his predictable reaction, he would have. In the absence of most of his motor skills, he instead concentrated on getting the rest of his request out.

“Want it inside me,” Alex sobbed, hitching his hips eagerly into Yassen’s ruthless rhythm.

Yassen’s brow creased. Like any other man, for once, his thoughts were too transparent in the face of such a choice. 

He could savour the power move of forcibly leaving Alex coated in the evidence of his sexual dominance. Alternately, he could experience the deep satisfaction of both generously granting Alex’s sex-addled request and marking Alex inside. Leave him polluted and satisfied.

Alex clutched at Yassen’s shoulders with his sharp little clawlike fingertips. 

“No one has ever come inside me,” he implored, looking up at the man through wet dark eyes.

Alex could see his honest admission - just this once, it really was the truth - push Gregorovich over the edge, with an instantaneous response.

Yassen pressed him down into the mattress firmly by the shoulders and let his core take over. He delivered a series of devastatingly deep thrusts.

It was never a surprise that Alex couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but under this extreme duress all he managed to communicate were wordless cries for oxygen and cut off protests at his rough treatment that Yassen duly ignored. 

Alex had no choice but to take it as he clung to the back of Yassen’s sweaty turtleneck. The rough sides of Yassen’s fly sawed the soft skin of Alex’s inner thighs raw, nearly rubbed to weeping. Despite this, the discomfort was almost unnoticeable given that the assassin was bruising Alex’s insides so viciously with his baton-stiff cock.

Yassen finally paused, barely panting, much to Alex’s irritation. He was still deep enough that Alex was shivering at the strain on his body. An utter confusion of pleasure and pain that had his entire central nervous system alight. 

Yassen lifted his head from where he’d practically set his teeth into the flesh under Alex’s ear and he fixed him with what Alex could only describe as a worshipful gaze. 

Yassen’s forehead was furrowed with the conscious strain of holding back, but his eyes were dilated. Black pupils nearly obscured the clear blue eyes that Alex was so used to hunting for in every crowd.

“Daddy is very proud of his kitten,” Yassen whispered. The delivery was devastating. 

Alex let out an involuntary sob and he came again spontaneously, practically dry, barely able to leak a further dribble of come onto his filthy stomach. 

Alex’s whole body tensed up over and over, squeezing down excruciatingly around the huge intrusion that was the assassin’s twitching shaft. 

Yassen still jerked into him in tight stuttering pushes that barely left Alex’s body. The slick sound of him thrusting through his own mess was obscene. All Alex could hear was his own sopping hole. 

It felt like Yassen was trying to force the hot spray of his come so deep that Alex would never be able to eradicate the evidence of what they’d done. 

The thought was almost enough to perk up Alex’s poor chafed dick.

Almost. The filthy deluge Alex could faintly feel filling his belly slowed and Yassen pulled out. He moved excruciatingly slowly, staring intently between Alex’s legs, watching his obscenely big cock slip out of Alex’s lithe body. 

Alex let his legs fall conveniently open, allowing Yassen to enjoy the aftermath of his hard work. A pink fucked open hole. Slick smears of come decorated Alex’s inner thighs like snail trails.

Finally, Alex thought, now semi-hysterical with exhaustion. Finally, Gregorovich was done with his bruised body. Alex wasn’t sure he could even sit up at this point. 

He had always misjudged the assassin’s preternatural endurance. It seemed most people did. How else could the man still be alive at this point, having walked away from death so many times. 

Alex let his breathing slow naturally as he came down from his adrenaline high. In through his nose, out through this mouth. Repeat. Repeat.

Yassen Gregorovich would get up, tuck away that huge cock - God, Alex shuddered in perverse leftover arousal - it was still coated in the come he’d flooded Alex’s insides with. 

Yassen Gregorovich would zip up and belt his jeans. He would check the safety on his Grach. Then he’d slip out silently like a tomcat, leaving Alex to lick his wounds.

Alex let his eyes slip closed for a few moments, and listened to exactly that happen.

**Author's Note:**

> At long last the filth is delivered... An absolutely unapologetic gift to the one and only capeofstorm. 
> 
> Thank you all for your patience as I spiral back into TSN and completely neglect all my Alex responsibilities!!!


End file.
